To A Godson

(With an album containing portraits of all those who at the time of
his birth were leaders in the intellectual and political world.)

Here hast thou before thee that constellation
Whereunder was born thy light;
These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation
Will fashion thy life with might.
Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know,
They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go
And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow.
Thou first shalt them gather,
Then choose thine own,-
So canst thou the rather
Grope on alone.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Mother's Song

Lord! Oh, hold in Thy hand my child,
Guard by the river its playing!
Send Thou Thy Spirit as comrade mild,
Lest it be lost in its straying!
Deep is the water and false the ground.
Lord, if His arms shall the child surround,
Drowned it shall not be, but living,
Till Thou salvation art giving.

Mother, whom loneliness befalls,
Knowing not where it is faring,
Goes to the door, and its name there calls;
Breezes no answer are bearing.
This is her thought, that everywhere
He and Thou for it always care;
Jesus, its little brother,
Follows it home to mother.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Secret love

He gloomily sat by the wall,
As gaily she danced with them all.
Her laughter's light spell
On every one fell;
His heartstrings were near unto rending,
But this there was none comprehending.

She fled from the house, when at eve
He came there to take his last leave.
To hide her she crept,
She wept and she wept;
Her life-hope was shattered past mending,
But this there was none comprehending.

Long years dragged but heavily o'er,
And then he came back there once more.
-Her lot was the best,
In peace and at rest;
Her thought was of him at life's ending,
But this there was none comprehending.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Maiden On The Shore

She wandered so young on the shore around,
Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound.
Soon came there a painter, his art he plied
Above the tide,
In shadow wide,-
He painted the shore and herself beside.

More slowly she wandered near him around,
Her thoughts by a single thing were bound.
And this was his picture wherein he drew
Herself so true,
Herself so true,
Reflected in ocean with heaven's blue.

All driven and drawn far and wide around
Her thoughts now by everything were bound.
Far over the ocean,-and yet most dear
The shore right here,
The man so near,
Did ever the sunshine so bright appear!

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Landfall

And that was Olaf Trygvason,
Going o'er the North Sea grim,
Straight for his home and kingdom steering,
Where none awaited him.
Now the first mountains tower;
Are they walls, on the ocean that lower?

And that was Olaf Trygvason,
Fast the land seemed locked at first,
All of his youthful, kingly longings
Doomed on the cliffs to burst,-
Until a skald discovered
Shining domes in the cloud-mists, that hovered.

And that was Olaf Trygvason,
Seemed to see before his eyes
Mottled and gray some timeless temple
Lifting white domes to the skies.
Sorely he longed to win it,
Stand and hallow his young faith within it.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Toast For The Men Of Eidsvold

'Twas then this land of ours we drew
From centuries of ice and sorrow,
And let it of the sun's warmth borrow,
And law and plow brought order new;
We dug the wealth in mountain treasured,
Our stately ships the oceans measured,
And springtime thoughts were free to run
As round the Pole the midnight sun.

And still with God we'll conquer, hold:
Each plot reclaimed for harvest-reaping,
Each ship our sea takes to its keeping,
Each child-soul we to manhood mold,
Each spark of thought our life illuming,
Each deed to fruit of increase blooming,-
A province adds unto our land
And o'er our freedom guard shall stand.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Question and answer

THE CHILD

Father! Within the forest's bound
No bird I found,
No sound of song the woods around.

THE FATHER

The bird that glad his song us gave,
Flies o'er the wave;
Perhaps he there will find his grave.

THE CHILD

But why does he not wait till later?

THE FATHER

[...] Read more

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Hare And The Fox

The fox lay still by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with nimble foot
O'er the heather.
Was ever brighter a sunshine-day,
Before, behind me, and every way,
O'er the heather!

The fox laughed low by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with daring foot
O'er the heather.

I am so happy for everything!
Hallo! Why go you with mighty spring
O'er the heather?

The fox lay hid by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare dashed to him with reckless foot

[...] Read more

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Forward

'Forward! forward!'
Rang our fathers' battle-cry.
'Forward! forward!'
Norsemen, be our watchword high!
All that fires the spirit and makes the heart's faith bright,
For that we forward go with might
And faithful fight.

'Forward! forward!'
Whoso loves a home that's free.
'Forward! forward!'
Freedom's course must ever be.
Though it shall be tested by doubt and by defeat,
Who will the losses' count repeat
When vict'ries greet?

'Forward! forward!'
Whoso trusts in Norway's day.
'Forward! forward!'
Whoso goes our fathers' way.

[...] Read more

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The angels of sleep

Asleep the child fell
When night cast its spell;
The angels came near
With laughter and cheer.
Her watch at its waking the mother was keeping:
'How sweet, my dear child, was your smile now while sleeping!'

To God mother went,
From home it was rent;
Asleep the child fell
'Neath tears' troublous spell.
But soon it heard laughter and mother-words tender;
The angels brought dreams full of childhood's rare splendor.

It grew with the years,
Till gone were the tears;
Asleep the child fell,
While thoughts cast their spell.
But faithful the angels their vigils were keeping,

[...] Read more

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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